An Affair on Valentine's
by Anti-Valentines O-S Contest
Summary: Entry for AVD O/S. Two married lover's come together on Valentine's day...Is it love or lust?


**Title: An Affair on Valentine's**

**Rating: M**

**Characters: Rose and Edward**

**Not Mine**

Rose is breathing in short gasps. Her eyes are closed.

I've propped myself up on one hand. We're in the missionary position, or I hope about to go fully into it. With the other hand I grasp my cock and run it up and down her heat, pausing to rest my dick on her clit for a second.

She giggles lightly, reaches for my head, pulling my mouth to hers. Our mouths open and tongues slither together. Our saliva blends. She opens her eyes and looks into mine as we kiss.

"Are you Okay?" I ask, breaking the kiss.

"Oh yes, Edward," she whispers.

I feel her wetness, as my cock head slides easily along her pussy. I know that penetrating her now would be easy. My cock is very stiff, and dripping pre-cum. I look down between our bodies. A heavy drop of clear fluid is poised at the slit of my cock. I rub the cock head against her moist outer lips, mixing my secretion with hers.

This stage in our relationship has happened very quickly. The passion which flared up between us has carried us headlong to this crucial moment. Once I plunge my cock into her, things could change. There's a lot at stake.

But at this moment, I realize there isn't any reason right now to rush. I have time. It's Valentine's Day. A day for taking your time with your lover. Such opportunities are few, very few.

Rose had been very touchy-feely at work lately.

She had never stopped by my work station to talk to me until the past few weeks. Often I am very busy and she won't stop if I don't at least turn my head as she walks behind me. We'd begun to talk and something happened. That something I've had happen so many times, yet have no words for.

Is it a chemical reaction? Is it an emotion reaction? Intellectual?

Lately, Rose would lay a hand on my shoulder and she didn't avoid my hand if I happened to touch her or brush against her. First I touched her hair lightly, then a few days later, her shoulder.

Is it seduction? Who is seducing who by touching and being touched?

Several times I wondered what would happen if I suggested we got together during the day while we are away from work. Now, I know, I think, poising my cock at her opening and slowly thrusting into her, parting the soft outer lips of her hidden treasure. 

Rose and I both work at night and we have all day for fun. Sometimes our jobs have required us to work together and we do that well. That's always a plus for on-the-job romances.

I've had a few.

Rose has a quick smile, a purposeful walk and a quick wit. Strangely, I just enjoy seeing her move. She's blond with blue eyes, and she has a keen fashion sense. From her stylish clothes, and slim but shapely figure, you would never guess that she is the mother of three children.

What I like most about her is the way she says fuck. Sometimes fuck sounds crass coming out of a woman's mouth. But not from Rose's. With her, because of her aura of femininity, the word conveys a stir of sensuality, rather than rudeness. Her delivery of fuck sounds natural and has meaning on different levels. On the several occasions when we worked together and were under stress to make a deadline, she's used it frequently, in her sweet, well modulated voice, which somehow gives the word a different meaning from normal. I have felt my cock harden at the sound and twitch with each repetition of fuck, fucker or fucking that came out of those gorgeous lips.

I look at Rose now, her eyes are closed again.

"Edward, should we?" she asks me softly. "Is this right? Why don't we stop?"

A heck of a time for second thoughts, I think. Here she is with her legs spread, about to be penetrated. I know she is just seeking my reassurance. Of course I give it.

"Baby, you know it's right," I say.

A faint smile parts her full red lips. At first, I'm not sure that she believes me. But she has made up her mind, it seems.

I feel her legs wrap around my waist and begin to pull me toward her. She wants all of my cock into her. I sink the shaft in one slow inch at a time and look down between our bodies as it slides into her slippery hole.

As we had started getting undressed, strangely calm, despite the hunger that was gripping us, I had looked around the bedroom.

There are photographs on the fireplace mantle, on the TV and the tables. The pictures remind me of the two problems we've had getting together. One -- she's married. Two -- I'm married.

I know that hasn't stopped me before, but I am not sure about Rose.

Rose is in some of the photos. She's with her husband of fourteen years.  
The guy, Emmett, who's in another state right now, thinking his wife is home getting the kids to school, cleaning the house, paying bills, going to the grocery store or some other trivial things before she goes to work.

She did get the kids to school, but that's about it.

She's actually about to get laid by her new lover on Valentine's Day. She seems to be enjoying it. At least I hope so. I know she has doubts.

Any woman willing to risk this much to be with me deserves my best efforts and my loyalty. I'll never tell anyone about this, about our relationship.

Rose arches her back toward me and my cock hits the top. All eight inches are buried in her neatly trimmed pussy. She has left a strip of fuzz that runs up about two inches from the top of her slit. Even as I revel in the glorious feel of her warm cunt gripping my shaft, I think about what led up to me getting her pants off.

Usually the guy has to make the first move. As Valentine's Day approached, I decided to take a chance and dropped a card into her mailbox at work. It was risky and I was in a sweat as I did it, but I thought it would be the best way to test the water.

I wanted to let her know that I really felt something for her.

Rose pulled me aside that night after she found the card and we walked to another area of our building, where we talked and touched and shared our first kiss.

"I wasn't sure if there was something between us," she said then.

I thought there was and told her so.

"It's chemistry that just happens," I said. "We can't really help it. I feel drawn to you. Almost like a magnet."

How can it be explained?

It's what life is about. That strange animal magnetism that draws two people together. I don't want to leave my wife. She doesn't want to leave her husband. We just want to keep each other company, when we can. Even if it's only a day here, or a day there, and something that cannot last.

After that first night, we sent funny, sexy emails to each other and looked for the first opportunity to be alone.

That's today -- Valentine's Day.

My heart leapt when she stopped by my workstation last week, bent beside me and whispered in my ear: "My husband is going away on the thirteenth and he won't be back until the sixteenth."

The words sizzled my ears and lit my senses on fire. I love the scheming.

I picked Rose up at the mall this morning. We arranged to meet in a particular area of the lot. She left her car there.

Rose wore sunglasses, jeans, and a sweater. I smiled and kissed her as she got into my car. We held hands, when possible, as we drove back to her house. She broke the grip and let her hand roam to my seat, then onto my jeans, finally coming to rest on top of the bulge growing there under the steering wheel.

She caressed the expanding knob in my pants. We pulled up to a traffic light. I looked up as the woman in the passenger seat of the SUV beside us looked down into the driver's side of my car. She looked down, then away, then back again at me quickly, realizing that what she saw was worth looking at again.

What she saw was my hands on the wheel, but a third hand pumping my stalk through my jeans. I sat back and let her watch as Rose's hand worked my cock through my jeans. I laughed as the voyeur in the SUV got an eyeful. Maybe she was turned on. I'll never know. The light turned green and we drove on, taking different roads.

By the time we got to Rose's house, the rocket in my pants was ready to launch. Somewhere during the drive I used a finger to probe beneath Rose's jeans, getting it wet for a moment in her slippery snatch.

Rose brought the automatic garage door opener with her and we smoothly pulled into the garage.

We kissed in the kitchen, then Rose pushed me against a wall, got on her knees, unzipped my pants, letting my hard cock fall out. She sucked and slurped on it, then led me to her bedroom upstairs, cock in hand. We said little, but I know my mind was churning being in her house, wondering if there was a minute chance someone would walk in. I looked around just in case I needed an escape route from an irate husband. Not that I couldn't handle myself, but it's best to plan.

We ended up in the bedroom she shares with her husband.

The sunglasses, jeans and sweater lie neatly on a chair, as are my clothes. Despite the heat of our passion, we had been strangely controlled, purposeful, almost as if this was something we had done many times. Some kind of bond seemed to exist between us, already.

I ease my cock out of Rose and thrust it in again.  
For a moment I let her grind on it, then I pull it out and thrust it again, and again and again. I look down between our bodies and see her slick pussy juice coating my stalk. The sound of the repeated penetration, the only sound we're making, fills the bedroom.

Would there be an echo left for her husband to hear when he got back?

Our previous calmness has long gone, and we now writhe against each other with abandon. As my cock pumps, her hot cunt churns and grinds as she strives for orgasm.

Each of us is seeking to climax our adulterous lovemaking on this Valentine's Day. A day that might open a new chapter in our lives, or might just be the occasion of another illicit sexual liaison. She pulls my face down again, and our wet open mouths devour each other while I continue to pump into her furiously, plunging her depth.

"Fuck me. Fuck me," Rose whispers in my ear, raising gooseflesh across my body. I had told her how the word turns me on when she uses it, and now she's using the word for the purpose I had fantasized about.

She pulls me harder against her and grinds her sweet pussy into me. I move one hand to her bum, and raise her hips up against mine, helping her grind. From the soft moaning sounds she makes and the urgency of her hips, I sense that her orgasm is building. I increase my efforts, desperate to please her. Resting on my knees with an arm under her, I mange to find the firm knob of her clit with the other hand. As if she had received an electric shock, I feel her fingernails dig deep into my back. I wonder for a fleeting second how I'll explain that to my wife. But, frankly, at the moment, I don't give a fuck.

Rose moans in a higher note, churns, then I feel the expansion and contraction of her tunnel walls as her orgasm hits. She closes her eyes and screams as the explosion in her cunt ripples through her body.

Her voice and the gripping spasms of her pussy send me over the edge. The first eruption of sperm blasts from my cock as I thrust it in. Then another and another. My balls pump out their sauce as my quivering stalk unloads deep inside Rose, splashing her insides with my seed. After the first few shots, I slow and pump gently, feeling some of our juices escaping and dribbling over our entwined loins.

Our breathing slows as our orgasms subside, then she begins to sob.

"It's my first time," she says. "It's the first time I've cheated."

I hold her close and tell her how much I care for her, how much I adore her, how much I want her to be happy.

The only thing I don't say is that I know it'll get easier.

Everything I say is true. I mean every word of it. At least for now. I am always realistic.  
Soon Rose stops sobbing and looks into my eyes, lifts her head and kisses me.

"Hold me," she says.

I sense the fear and guilt running through her mind now after the passion fades. Will there be regret, and a tearful ending? Or will we continue with this?

It's a sweet Valentine's Day.

A drop of sweat falls from my forehead onto her face, then another. I kiss it away, tenderly. Rose opens her tear-stained eyes and smiles at me. Perhaps she doesn't mind, anymore, I dare to hope. Next time will it be at my house? Will there be more of our very own "Valentine's Days?"

Will there be anymore of Rose at all?


End file.
